Wondering who I am
by Midnightistoolate
Summary: Karkat reviews his sucky family life, his asshole friends, and that little 'romance' problem with Dave. He's just not interested. Contains: Who am I? religious but not offensive topics, curse words, crying, Karkat, and a whole lot of misery. Humanstuck
1. Prolouge

My name, well it's Karkat. My dad wanted a boy named Carter, and my mother wanted a girl named Katy. So being the wonderfully brilliant people that they are, they shared their names and made a Karkat, seemingly neither boy nor girl and no matter how many times that Karkat tells people he's a boy who likes strictly girls, no one seems to give a fuck.

I've got a little sister who follows me around like a cat, a poor sap of an older bother (oops I meant brother, yeah that's it…) who had a similar mishap with his naming, and another sister who's deaf and ran away with her freaky boyfriend. My dad thinks they worship Satan together and my parents pretty much disowned her so she's never around.

You see, my family is the type that seems really miserable to other people but to our selves we're actually pretty content until we go in our separate rooms, shut the doors and cry ourselves to sleep at night in self- pity. Mom hangs around with gays a lot, which dad hates because he's 'super religious' even though he hardly sees any of us anyways. On Sundays he's a preacher, on weekdays he's a construction worker who doesn't come home until after everyone's in bed so he can drink himself to sleep without the guilt of other's eyes staring at him.

Please, don't allow me to stop there. I have many more problems to explain to you before we get into the real meat of the story which deals with my very messed up 'romantic' life and some venting stuff and journeys into the soul. If you are frightened by soul searches please, unbuckle your seatbelt and leave the vehicle immediately.

Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah that's right, family. The only one I can halfway stand to be around is Nepeta. What the hell my parents were thinking I have no idea. It doesn't matter though because when she was born I was too busy waddling around the house playing with hot wheels and scattering Pokemon cards through the hallways to care. She's only seven and yikes is she annoying. Much less annoying than Kankri however. (Dad wanted Cane, Mom wanted Krissy.) He just prances around the house all day in that big stupid red sweater of his preaching the holy word to everyone he sees. No wonder people seem to hate him at school. But I know he's like me. I hear him cry second most often when he thinks no one can hear how sad he is.

Mom is the biggest crier of the family. That's because she's ninety percent certain that Dad's been having an affair with one of my classmate's mothers. She also cries because she can't sleep. She says she's been having some pretty freaky visions lately. It's starting to freak me out too. Mom's the kind of person who thinks she's got the best intentions but really, she makes things worse most of the time. I'm really worried about her.

Dad hates us. He says he could never hate anyone but I know he'd rather be screwing in her office than spending time with us. That just seems like hate to me. He never wants to see us or go on dates with mom. Most of the time I blame my older sister, because things started to go wrong when she left.

Talking about my family makes me pretty fucking sick to my stomach, but even thinking about my friends makes me want to vomit. Let's spin the wheel and see what deranged frightening friend we can land on today, shall we? Will the spinner land on the druggie with a clown fetish? The bi-polar kid with no parents? How about the obvious homosexual who is way too happy for his own good? My new best friend with the crush on me who is clingy and possessive? Which one will we choose?

Sometimes I really hate my friends. Sometimes I really hate school. Sometimes I really hate my family. Sometimes I really hate life. Sometimes, I always hate life. Sometimes, there's never anything I can do about it. However maybe talking though this shitty sack of what my life is will make me slap a smile on my face so I don't look like I put my wrists through a paper shredder by the time I'm twenty.

Well then, not that I care to know your name (No, I really don't give a fuck) and you know a little bit about me…let's start this thing I guess.


	2. Starting at the End

This morning it snowed…a lot. Like I'm talking just buckets of that white shit. Most people were pissed as punch and a few were happier than…I don't even know. But not me. No I was sitting at my desk watching them float around when I was supposed to be listening to some crazy bat of a substitute teacher drone on about the joys of parenthood. She starts explaining the process of sex and I'm busy ignoring both her and my best friend who's wiggling his eyebrows up and down like crazy while grinning like an idiot at me. Instead I'm watching the snowflakes swirl and stick to the window. Big clusters hit the glass and melt. Hit and melt. Hit and melt.

It just seems weird to me, how something can be there and then disappear in the same moment that you first see it. The teacher snaps at me, trying to get my attention so I know more about my penis than I would have liked to. I spend the rest of the period drawing myself, naked and covered in snow. It's not that good, but somehow peers are still amazed but my artwork. I cover it as best as I can, but nosy people always manage to catch me and watch me 'work my magic.' It is the worst fucking thing ever.

As I walk out of class, my best friend Dave grabs me, hanging onto me and further raising the suspicions that we're homosexuals. No girls ever want to date me because of this. I mean, it's not like I'm ugly and I'm not an asshole to everyone I see. Probably my confidence levels or lack thereof.

He's talking to me now and I don't have the slightest clue of what it is that he's saying. It's going in one ear and out the other because I'm very busy imagining what sex is like and a lot of what-ifs that I will probably share at lunch time when everyone laughs the most. We say goodbye and it's time for gym class. More like, 'please hang me from the pull-up bar'. The teacher seems to think it's funny to watch us run and sweat like pigs. It makes me pissed as hell that they don't bother running with us, the elderly asshole should either run or retire, that's what I think. My other pretty good friend Gamzee is in that class, and more than three times he's been too high to participate. I really worry about him, but there's not much I can do for him…

We're doing warm-ups and then running for an endless amount of time and finally we're playing some stupid game I don't pay attention to. I'm very busy you see, thinking about rhythms of the music that's playing and the different kinds of sex that would feel really great. Today it's mainly oral. In case you haven't noticed, I think about these kinds of things very often. I'm tired as shit, and eventually I sit down on the bleachers, making up stories and creating scenes in my head.

Then, I blink and I'm eating lunch. Everyone's here, John, Gamzee, Sollux, Kanaya, Rose, Dave and Tavros. Tavros doesn't really belong in our group but no one else really lets him sit with them and he's not annoying like Eridan, who's popular, so we just let him hang out and listen to conversation while he dines on whatever fine artificial food we've been served that day. Gamzee belongs here because he's pretty much head over heels for the little Mexican paraplegic (aka, Tav) and they've been together for about three months. Plus the guy does drugs and nothing says loser like smoking marijuana alone on Wednesday nights.

Rose and Kanaya are here because they're both bisexual and apparently being gay at our school is completely disgusting even though I've heard queen bee of the eleventh grade, Feferi Pexies discussing how there's nothing wrong with being gay. In fact, most of the cute gay guys are put up on pedestals at our school. But lesbians? Of course we can't allow them to roam the school freely, boys would be in boner heaven all day every day.

John sits with us because he cries a lot. And he's kind of got an acne problem. Pair that with a Jewish heritage and flaming personality and you've got a loser.

Then there's Sollux who is pretty self explanatory. The kid's bi-polar, Asian (our school is also racist to anyone who is not black or white) and a big computer nerd. The kid literally gets paid five hundred bucks a month to do hacking jobs for numerous students who come to him for help. It's the only reason people talk to him. Well that coupled with the fact that he's made so much money he bought himself a pretty nice car the day he turned sixteen.

That leaves Dave. Dave used to be the most popular kid in school. He wore expensive red chuck taylor's and super gay designer clothing. All the girls had crushes on him and even a couple guys. Then he came out of the closet, got braces and people found out his eyes were the color of cherries. God forbid we have any kind of uniqueness about ourselves.

Why am I at the loser table…? Well I just don't know.

I blink through my last hour class of art. There are no windows and it feels like a prison. We are supposed to design a sculpture from paper Mache and while popular kids create Christmas trees and Rainbows I sculpt out a vague design based off my parenthood class drawing. People say nothing when they see me making a frozen naked me. I know they think I'm weird but most of myself couldn't give less of a shit.

The bus ride home is loud and there are plenty of obnoxious loud kids shouting and flinging things and cussing. A super popular senior (that just happens to be Tavros' brother) talks to me. It's Rufioh Nitram and he's making the whole bus laugh. He asks me about my day and gets into a fight with the kid next to him before making out with his boyfriend for a straight fifteen minutes. I roll my eyes and go back to staring out the window because I left my Nintendo in my room.

Soon I'm home and mom is crying…again. Today I ignore it and go straight to my room. She'll pretend everything's a slice of peach pie when Nepeta gets home from school in an hour. I'll play along and so will Kankri. Nepeta will pretend like nothing's wrong and then think about it later when she's trying to sleep. I don't bother to ask what happened this time, and instead crawl into my bed to pretend to do homework when really I'm looking at porn or masturbating or something. Personally I find touching myself disgusting and weird, but it feels so freaking great I can't help myself. Afterwards I'm always ashamed at myself because gross am I really that lonely that I need to play with myself?

I screw with myself until it starts to hurt and then by that time Nepeta's home and knocking on my door. I pull the blankets over my head and shout at her. Our conversation goes something like this:

Nepeta: KARKAT!

Me: (shouting) WHAT!?

Nepeta: Will you help me with my project pleeeeeeeeease?

Me: No.

Nepeta: But everyone else is so busy! Mom is making dinner, Kanny isn't home yet and Daddy isn't home yet.

Me: He probably won't come home.

Nepeta: (silence)

Me: Now go do your project by yourself like you're supposed to.

Nepta: (feet walk away)

Finally I'm alone again. I'm sure as hell not going to do homework and masturbation only seems to feel good once a day and sometimes even less than that. So unlike most days I rise from my bed, screech at the sunlight and venture out of my room to the rest of my house. The house smells like spices and meat. Mom's making steak. It takes every ounce of my being not to ask my mother, "So what's the occasion? You finally divorcing dad's cheating ass?" But we are a Catholic family and Catholics do not swear. Or masturbate or lie or do wrong. According to my father. Instead of saying something so rude and vial I choose to park myself on a chair in front of the kitchen counter and begin a conversation with my mother.

Me: Hey mom.

Mom: Hi honey.

Me: Why are you making steak?

Mom: Your father is bringing some very official friends home.

Me: Oh…Who? (My heart is sinking, she finally found out)

Mom: Ms. Pyrope. Her daughters are coming over as well.

Me: When are they coming over?

Mom: Around six thirty.

Me: Oh. (I pause) Why is he having a lawyer come o-

Mom: (angry) For the love of God Karkat stop asking me so many questions!

She's still upset from whatever she was crying about so I slip out of my chair, ignore her frazzled black hair and tired eyes and pale skin, and grab some snacks out of the pantry. My mother looks like death. I'm scared of death so in turn I amscared of my mother. She says nothing about the chocolate chip cookies I have in my already pudgy hands, she knows I'll eat, food is good.

Normally I would go back to my room but Kankri isn't home, instead he's at mock trial probably arguing 's younger daughter's ear off as they bicker about whatever made up case they've created. I never understood that club. Why argue just for the sake of arguing? So instead of slacking off on my computer I grab a comic book off the bottom self of the bookcase in our living room and read Batman while I stuff my face. I've put on a little weight recently and it makes my stomach look like a pillow. A small pillow but still a pillow. Soon I am playing with the folds of my mid section like an idiot. Nepeta bounds downstairs like a wild animal on all fours and I shove my stomach into my oversized sweatshirt. She looks scared, tells me she saw 'Kanny' staggering up the sidewalk like he was in pain.

Sure enough, the door opens and Kankri shuffles in, covering half his face with his hand. He limps in trying to sneak past our mother. Of course, she catches him by the ear and I watch from living room. Nepeta walks right in for a closer view.

Mom: Kankri Vantas what happened to your shirt?

Kankri: (for once, silent)

Mom: Kankri you're quiet, your new shirt is ripped and you're walking with a limp, you tell me what is going on this instant or I'll…I'll…

While my mother thinks of a proper punishment Kankri walks away, silent and goes up to his room. Of course, my mother locks her vulture eyes onto me.

Mom: Karkat go talk to your brother.

Me: (inhuman upset noises)

Mom: (glares)

Me and Mom: (eye conversation)

Me: (goes upstairs after losing a silent argument)

I don't even knock I just open the door right up to see Kankri with a swollen eye shiny and black and shut. He doesn't say anything. Even though he's my big brother it feels like I'm the one who watches after him. He mouths for me to get out. Telling a younger sibling to go away or 'get out' is like telling a criminal not to bring a weapon into a certain building. It is an invitation to do the opposite. I walk up next to him, sit on his bed.

Me: Kankri who the hell beat you up?

Kankri: (look of alarm at the swearword)

Me: Yes Kankri I swore. I said hell in a non-biblical way. Are you and your man vagina going to be okay or do I need to get someone in here to hold you and make it better?

Kankri: (shoots me the bird, excellent Catholic, almost as good as me)

Me: Look just tell mom you ran into something so she doesn't call Cronus's parents again.

Kankri: (looks away)

I know Cronus has been beating on him lately to impress queen bee Pexies older sister who's a real fucking badass if I do say so myself. Of course it never works and he just pops my brother again before finally leaving him be. Sure he's an asshole but he used to be pretty cool I guess. Back when me and my friends were getting ready to piss our pants from fear of middle school eating us whole, Cronus would tell us stories about how it did suck but it wasn't as shittastic as everyone made it out to be. He used a lot of swear words so we thought it was cool.

Me: Oh come on you puss why don't you ever smack him back?

Oh boy, what have I done?

Kankri: Violence is what causes humans to hate each other. If it was not for violence we would not have war or rape or other things that would trigger people in such ways that are absolutely terrible and rude. How dare you suggest that I of all people use violence on another human being no matter how much I dislike them. I will make sure that no matter how many times he takes a swing at me I will never strike back!

Me: Well if you don't pop him one in his smart ass fifties talking mouth then I will!

I leave, slam the door and stomp downstairs.

It's almost six thirty so I go brush my hair and teeth and use too much cologne to impress 's youngest daughter Terezi. She's about my age but she goes to a different school. Plus she's got big boobs and she's hot.

The door opens up and I can hear my dad's pastor voice commanding everyone's attention from downstairs.

Who's hungry? Tonight we will be serving ignored children and wounded wife with a side of guilty conscience.

I don't want to feel the awkward in the air but I have to so the moment my mother shouts, "Dinner's ready!" I flop down the staircase into my very own night of personal Hell.


End file.
